A Little Less Green
by Everything's Eventual
Summary: There are places where things like Witches and the Undead and Vampires and Werecreatures still wander uninterupted, surreal and dark and- 'shhhh' kinds of places Lightly based Monster Tamer, KHR AU, 1827


**A/N: I've been wanting to put this up for a while, BTW, this may be an actual STORY with a PLOT, not like 100 Unloved or Vongola Orphanage where it's just me dicking around with drabbles xD and I may continue and run with it, I may not, but so far, I kind like it (I think it may be a 1827 if I continue, but I'unno)**

**I like witches, the mythology behind it is so messed up and attractive and Tim Burton-esque that I can't help but love it**

**Everyone is sort of based off the Monster Tamer stories, except Tsuna's a cute little witch that runs a store in the middle of the woods after being abandoned by his Witch tutor Reborn *tottally serious***

**So… it's more like this, when it comes to witches it's like this, Tsuna is Kiki of course**

**Reborn is totally Ursula ('cept not fat and ugly, but, you know, just as evil)**

**And of course Mukuro's Elphie. The misunderstood wicked witch xD**

* * *

For as far as the eye could see, huge fir trees and brush covered, as a solid blanket of dark green, the land and hills. Hills, all ranging in size, bulged up against the horizon underneath the blanket. The hills were always cold and the trees, eternally evergreen.

In the center of the valley, the old oaks were bent and intertwined with each other like a single tree, almost impossible to travel through; only a small stream was able to forge its way. Large, horrible beasts lived in this deeper part of the wood. Not just the wolves and bears but beasts lost to legend (except those poor souls who saw them) like lycanthropes and the walking dead and witches and other things that swirled around in the darkness. The old, apathetic forest and the distorted darkness breed these monsters, allowed them to fester and grow away from the comforting goodness (yet indifference) of the sky.

No man could survive in such a place. A place that had existed since the beginning of the earth and where primeval monsters thrived and an early Darkness (not darkness, but _Darkness_) found sanctuary.

Such misunderstood things existed in the forgotten places of the world.

The trees faded from the knotted, dark center into younger fir trees, these young trees were tall and straight and proud, but ignorant, and went on until the small farms flattened them out.

A small village sat on the outskirts of the forest, away from the ancient evil of the tangled center, little houses built nestled between two hills. The village was but a small trading destination with little farming and a little hunting. It was a small place but filled with content people who never bothered anyone else and never got far in other people business.

In the day, it was beyond beautiful, especially from the view of the castle resting at the crest the tallest hill.

The castle was gloomy, even in the light, as it haunted over the valley and the village. The walls were built out of old stone, turned black with streaks of gray from years of weathering. Random windows were carved into the walls, small, skinny, unwelcoming windows often found on fortresses. There was only one large window; it was in the tallest, most looming tower, however the curtains were always drawn. It invoked a horrible feeling in the villagers, as it was constantly watching, never sleeping and never blinking. A huge creature.

It didn't help that the shape of the castle was strangely warped, bulging walls and crooked wings, like a huge, stooping gargoyle over a cliff. The black towers twisted away from the main hall into fantastical, coiling spirals that pierced the sky with dramatically pointed roofs.

And like any other gargoyle, it sat patiently staring down at the valley, seemingly waiting for _something_ on top of that lonely hill. It was almost always surrounded by swirling, dark clouds and even darker rumors.

Even though the villagers prided themselves on not being to nosy, they gossiped mercilessly about the castle owner, a young man no one had ever seen (the young man had bought the decaying castle from the mayor many, _many_ years ago through some strange, thuggish looking man who conducted all business transactions for his master) The adults said he was a wealthy murderer in hiding, the children said he was a vampire.

Never the less, the castle was friendless and lonely atop the hill and maybe that was how the creature of the castle liked it. Maybe he enjoyed the silence, maybe he enjoyed looking out his window at the darkness of night _by himself_. 'By himself' was how he became so intimidating. In that way, the master of the castle, the old woods and the castle itself together held a sort of kinship, that the good people of the world had neglected them until they were not only frightening, but twisted and dark.

But I digress.

Out of one of the windows, the creature of the castle gazed out at the world he so detested but remained untied to, the creature's coal-like eyes trained on something curious fighting its way across the sky. That little something seemed to peak his interest as his thin eyebrows knotted and sharp eyes narrowed.

He watched as the wind blew gently over the night time scene, mussing with the trees and tossing the small figure wildly through the cloudy sky.

The small black blot, set against the gray sky, rose and fell and looped with that wind.

The object in the sky whirled around, disappeared into a cloud, then reappeared when it speed out into the light of the moon. It stalled there, silhouetted against the white crescent and appeared to try and continue forward but the wind had other plans.

It gave a sudden push and the flying thing spiraled violently towards the ground before pulling itself up just feet above the tops of the trees, it managed to gain some traction by skimming the tops and fought the random, strong gusts. It soared for about a mile, small feet skimming the leaves, upsetting weaker ones which flew up in flurries behind him. But soon, another harsh burst of wind knocked him off his path and sent the boy flying backwards, his small hands clung desperately to the broom's handle as he spun and twirled across the sky yet again.

He knew this was a lost cause and tried to aim for a safe bald patch in the thick forest to land but, or course, the wind sent him for the trees again, this time, he was unable to pull up and he smashed into a huge fir tree.

Luckily, the tree's thick branches and leaves kept him from breaking anything when he smashed into its trunk, unluckily, they weren't nearly thick enough to support him and the boy was sent hurdling towards the ground.

A small boy emerged from the brush, clutching his heart and his broom, looking completely terrified, eyes impossibly wide and chest heaving. Once he caught his breath and calmed himself, he began to fix his clothing. He adjusted his pointed hat, fixed the ribbon that tied his heavy black cape to his small, skinny shoulders and brushed off leaves and dirt.

Surprisingly, even the dark smudges that seemed permanent just faded as small hands dusted over them. Leaves and twigs that were embedded into his cloak fell off with little effort. Soon enough, the boy was spotless and walked out of the shadows and into a small ray of moon light.

His face was illuminated; huge, light brown eyes were bright even in the shadows as they reflected some inner light and his small features only made him seem like a small, frightened rabbit. Luckily, he'd landed in a rather tame part of the forest, who knows what the beasts would do to such a vulnerable little witch that could barely manage their own broom.

Not only that, but he was small, particularly tiny compared to his over sized clothing.

The boy's pointed crone's hat looked ridiculously large, falling over his light eyebrows and almost blocking his vision, his cape just as large (or maybe he was just unnecessarily small?) and the only thing that appeared to fit properly were his small brown shoes that made an adorable tapping sound as he stumbled clumsily over the fallen twigs and stray brush.

He made his way through the trees and bushes towards the clearing that he had originally been aiming for. His wide, bright eyes darted at every small animal that moved out his way as he tried his best not to disturb their sleep.

He bowed to a proud owl as he passed it and quietly apologized to a rabbit that had sleepily poked its small head out of its burrow to see what was going on. After a few more inquiries, the forest decided the small boy was no threat and slowly slipped back into its usual, silent indifference.

The boy walked into the clearing and looked around for any danger, and once he deemed it safe, visibly relaxed. He looked up towards the stars for a moment and sat down, criss-crossed, in the soft, early grass with his broom set next to him. For a while, everything was quite, the boy wasn't moving except for small movements of his soft lips, a small group of animals had gathered at the edge to stare at this boy, who, as it appeared, was not meditating but pouting. Eyes squinted shut and lips, which had finally stopped moving, were pursed out.

The small cluster of watchers winced and skittered away when the boy jumped up suddenly and cried, "Fine Reborn!" he shouted to the wind, "I'll stay here like a grown up and deal with my problems myself." He gave another loud cry and snatched up his gnarled broom off the ground.

He marched over the center of the clearing, stood there and examined the area with blinking soft, brown eyes, and lifted his broom, looking as if he was about to sweep the dirt. And the brunette, little witch did just that.

He walked backwards in a large circle in the center, giving the loose earth little brushes with the broom but gentle enough to only disturb to light sand that rested above the topsoil. Small clouds of dust floated up into the air, hovering just above the boys knees and remained there pending his passing. The small clouds drifted skywards until it was a light brown, clear wall of dust, and then slowly solidified into a tall, firm cylindrical building. The boy stepped away and smiled up at the wall, looking quite proud of his work.

He patted it to make sure it was solid, then, standing on his tiptoes, used the broom's handle to almost draw a messy circle into the building. The dusty wall gave in slightly and fell in on itself when the witch pressed his petit hand and pushed. He drew three more on his way around the cylinder before he drew a short door and stepped back again.

He gave another brightening smile before walking into the house, picking up a small, discarded tree branch along the way.

Once he was inside, the witch set the stick into the ground in the center and stepped back. In moments, the stick trembled and then grew, with a perfect, carved shape, up until it was a few feet above the line of the wall. Once there, it stopped suddenly and a huge covering of straw flumped out like an oversized umbrella.

With the roof and windows and door completed, the witch looked around his house and realized he'd forgotten how to make furniture and glass.

He fell to his hands and knees in the dark hut and breathed a great, exasperated sigh. Figuring that tomorrow he'd be forced to brave the way to town, overcome an unpleasant shyness and buy some kind of furniture.

His life really _wasn't_ fair.


End file.
